Right of Passage ::corrected version::
by gdspgcfan
Summary: This was a life they’d never have. This was their brief glimpse at how the other half lived never needing to worry about money. Always getting what they wanted never having to decide between dinner and a place to stay. [PLEASE R&R!]


**Rating:** PG  
**Spoilers:** None (set before the series)  
**Summary:** Dean and Sam go in for a case, only to find out that things aren't quite what they seem.  
**Warnings:** Umm, none really. Some mild language, but thats it.  
**Notes:** MANY wonderful thanks go out to Ash (LostAddict from WB boards). MANY thanks go out to her for being my beta for this fic, and for helping me decide what the title should be. ; Also, it should be noted that this fic was written in response to the "High Life"challenge at LJ community rocksaltwhores.

* * *

A 17 year old Dean found himself standing on the front step of a very large and very old building.

He was here for a case. For some reason, John hadn't been able to worm his way in on it, so he was sending Dean and Sam in together on this one. Dean thought back, remembering the brief description his father had given him of the case. 'There's a private school up in New Jersey that's got a poltergeist problem. It should have been simple enough, but the rumors about it have been circulating so long that this thing is known as everything from 'Casper the friendly ghost' who helps students find lost books, to 'Jonathan the Vengeful' who murders boarding students caught out of their rooms during the night. So, since there aren't any teaching positions available, I've worked out for you two to become students there.' Dean suppresses a snort at the thought of him and Sam all dolled up in khaki's, oxford shirts, and blazers, and going to a prestigious private high school that probably cost more that most colleges. But he returns his attention to the giant house in front of him.

"Dude, this place is freakin' huge! It's like a fucking castle or something!"

"Dean! Don't cuss like that. If you screw this gig up dad will kill us both!" Sam hissed as he reached a hand out to ring the doorbell.

They could hear the deep DING . . . DONG of the doorbell echoing through the house and Dean's keen hearing picked up on the sound of footsteps fast approaching the door.

Their father had left them just moments ago. He'd pulled up outside this house and told them that this was where they'd be staying while they attended the Montclair Preparatory Academy. He said that the family was nice, and for Dean and Sam to not take advantage of anything while they were there. Dean watched as the butler opened the door, and suddenly understood why their father had thought they might abuse this situation.

The house was magnificent. Just one glance told Dean that everything he was seeing was extremely expensive and that most of the paintings that lined the walls were originals.

"Welcome to the LaFortune household. Mr. LaFortune is waiting for you in the Library. You can leave your bags here and I will bring them up to your rooms."

Sam and Dean exchanged a small glance before carefully setting their bags down.

"Now, if you'll follow me, I'll lead you to the Library."

Dean and Sam followed in silence, both in total awe of their surroundings. This was a life they'd never have. This was their brief glimpse at how the other half lived; never needing to worry about money. Always getting what they wanted; never having to decide between dinner and a place to stay. This was the life to have, but Dean knew he'd never truly have it.

Sam couldn't believe the house had its very own library. He couldn't wait to explore the shelves and pick out some good books to read.

Dean on the other hand had started to decide that the prep school might not be too bad. Prep school meant uniform. Ok, that sucked for him in his opinion, but uniform meant that the girls at school would be wearing those little plaid skirts. Dean had always had this small fantasy about catholic school girls, and he grinned to himself at the thought of being surrounded by hot girls in those tiny little skirts. He was jerked out of his daydream as they approached the library door.

Henry pushed open the door to the library and lead Sam and Dean to a large oak desk. Behind the desk was an oversized leather chair, currently facing away from them, and, consequently, obscuring the occupant from sight.

"Sir, the children have arrived." Henry informs him before quickly exiting the room to attend to their bags.

"Let's make one thing perfectly clear boys. It was not my idea to have you here. I absolutely abhor having strangers in my house."

Dean gulps visibly at the man's tone and inflection. It was quite clear that neither he nor Sam would ever be wanted here, and that kinda sucked.

The man, Dean assumed it was Mr. LaFortune, continued "I'm going to lay out a few simple ground rules here. Actually, there is just one. Stay. Out. Of. My. Way. If I'm in here, you're not. If I'm enjoying a meal, you're not there. Simply stay out of sight and sound and thus, out of my mind. Is this clear?"

Dean and Sam both nodded vigorously before they realized that he couldn't see them. 13 year old Sam, who'd always been shy around strangers, peered up at Dean with those innocent little puppy dog eyes, begging Dean to answer before something bad happened.

"Yes Sir. Crystal clear." Dean responded on behalf of both himself and Sam.

"Good. My wife is out of town on business right now, so if you need anything, just talk to Henry. That will be all. You may go now." And that was it; conversation over.

Dean grabbed Sam and steered him toward the door. Once they were safely away, far away, from that library, Dean broke their silence.

"So, other than Mr. Grouchy back there, this should be a pretty fun gig Sammy."

"But Dean . . . I wanted to check out the library."

"Yeah, I figured you did. You can check it out tomorrow when he's not there. Now come on, let's find Henry and see about getting us some food. You're hungry right?"

Sam nodded an affirmation and trailed along behind Dean on their quest to find Henry.

They found him at a small table near the back of the kitchen.

"Henry?"

Henry looked up from the paper he'd been reading. "Hello young sir, is everything alright?"

"Well yeah, the place is great. Mr. LaFortune seems . . . uhh . . . interesting . . ." but Dean got cut off by a slight chuckle from Henry.

"He's really not so bad once you get to know him but . . . well, he's never been too fond of children. Well, not other peoples children." Seeing the confusion on Dean's face, he started in on a brief explanation. "Mr. LaFortune used to have kids. But when each child turned 13, they disappeared. With the first child, he called the cops, everyone thought it was kidnapping. With his second child, he began to become suspicious. And when the third child was approaching his 13th birthday, Mr. LaFortune put up security cameras, posted guards at every entrance, got watch dogs, and locked the kid in a room with only one entrance/exit. He locked the door himself. And stood guard with the local police chief until the sun rose. They unlocked the door in the morning and the kid was gone. Mr. LaFortune never quite got over it. So now he hates seeing children because it's what he knows he'll never have. Something won't let him keep his children."

Dean takes a quick glance at Sam . . . Had they just stumbled into another case?

"That's absolutely horrible. But why does he say 'something' won't let him have a kid?"

"Because there's no way anything human got into that room on that fateful night and took that kid away. No, I was here too, and whatever got that poor kid wasn't human," Pauses, "But enough about all that. You boys said you were hungry? What do you want? We've got pretty much everything here."

"Sammy, what do you want?" Dean asks, knowing Sam won't answer otherwise.

"Umm . . . chicken fingers!"

Dean laughs a little and looks up at Henry, who nods the confirmation that he can fix some up. "Yeah, that sounds good. We'll both have some if it's not too much trouble Henry."

"It's no trouble at all."

* * *

So the boys spent the next few weeks living the high life. Henry was really nice and made for great company while still catering to their every need. They ate like kings, having prime cut steak whenever they wanted. They even went out to a fancy restaurant one evening to celebrate when Sam had come home with an A on a paper he'd had to write for school. That dinner had cost close to 100 dollars. Dean almost choked on his water when the bill came, but Henry just pulled out a credit card and paid for it all. Dean tried to calculate how much ammo they could have bought with that, or how many motel nights it would buy, but he decided it was best if he never found out.

They'd successfully managed to keep out of Mr. Grouchy's way, and to top it all off, there wasn't even a case at the school. Turned out that one of the janitors would occasionally leave something laying around to spook the students and stir up the rumors.

Sam was all ready for Dean to call John and say they were ready to go, but Dean just couldn't shake the feeling that they still had a case to solve. He'd secretly been doing some research. First he'd researched as much as he could about Mr. LaFortune himself, but couldn't find any reason that something would steal his children. So next he started in on the history of the land. Ancient burial site? Nope. Forgotten cemetery? Wrong again. Dean hadn't been able to find anything about the land that would explain the disappearances. So he'd turned his attention to the house itself. It was a pretty old house, it was quite possible that some disgruntled previous owner had decided to stick around and make everyone's life complete hell.

"Well?" Pause. "Are you even listening to me!" Pause. "DEAN!"

Dean jumps a little, he'd been thinking about the possible case right here and he hadn't even heard a word Sam said. "Sorry Sam, I was thinking about something."

Sam snorts in laughter "That must have been painful." And he was rewarded with a fierce punch to the arm.

"OW!" He complains as he rubs his arm.

"You deserved that you little punk."

"Fine, maybe I did. But you were ignoring me. I asked when Dad was coming to get us. You did remember to call him right Dean?"

"Well . . . I uhh . . . it's not that I forgot Sam. I just think we still have a case to solve here."

"What?" Pauses. "Wait, don't you even tell me you believed Henry about those disappearing kids . . ."

"Well it doesn't sound like anything human took them! Besides, you in a hurry to leave or something? Come on Sam! Look around! This house is amazing . . . we're never gonna get anything close to this. The high life is out of our reach. This is probably our only change at anything like this. You're gonna complain because I want to spend a few more days?"

Sam thinks about that one for a moment. "There was this other book in the library that I was wanting to read . . ."

Dean latches onto that weakness "You can read all the books you want Sammy. I need to do a little more research, so you'll have plenty of time to read ok?"

"Ok . . . can I help you research?" Research had always been Sam's favorite part of a hunt.

"But I thought you wanted to read?"

"I do, but research is reading too. It'll be fun Dean. Please?"

"Yeah . . . yeah I could use some help with this one little bro." Dean smiles at Sam. Sometimes it was hard to remember that Sam was only 13. With everything they'd seen . . . and done . . . in their lives, there was no time to really be a kid. You had to grow up fast; become mature. Sure Sam could be a pain in the ass sometimes, but Dean still felt a slight pang of guilt that he'd let their dad suck away Sam's innocence and toss him into the hunting field.

* * *

Hours later, after digging through many dusty old books and tracking down the names of previous owners, all the way back to the poor soul who'd had to build the house, Dean had his answer.

After they'd found all the names they possibly could, Dean had asked Henry to drive them to the public library so that they could do some research for a 'school project'. He'd dropped them off and said he'd be back in a couple of hours to pick them up in time for dinner.

Knowing they had a set amount of time to work with, they got straight to work. Sam would tell Dean which books he was most likely to find answers in, and Sam knew how to work the library's card catalog system, which was a good thing for Dean because he was lost just looking at the drawers that housed all the cards.

They worked their way backwards through the names. Alfred Goldsborough checked out clean. He wasn't haunting the place. And neither was Chandler Heinlein, or Maria Robinson, or Lester MacLean. What they did find out was that Arthur Holmes, the first owner of the house, had once been sued by Jeremiah Crawford, who was the man who'd built the house. As it turns out, Jeremiah's son had died at age 13 on the build site of the home. Jeremiah had blamed Arthur for his son's death, so he'd sued. But the courts ruled that Arthur held no blame in the death, and Jeremiah swore he'd get his vengeance somehow.

Jeremiah had died when Arthur's son was 10, but when his son turned 13, he disappeared. Rumors flew around town that it was the spirit of Jeremiah come back for that revenge he'd sworn. Others said that Arthur had gone mad with guilt and killed the child himself. No one ever did quite figure out what had happened, but after Arthur's death, the house sat empty for years.

The second family to own the house had no children, but the third and moved in with a 16 year old and a 12 year old. They next year, when the child was 13, she disappeared. The other two families also had children who'd disappeared.

It was all too much to just be coincidence, so Dean set himself to finding out everything he could about Jeremiah Crawford. The man had been poor and his family hadn't been able to afford proper burial. That meant unmarked grave. Dean was about the curse the bastards who wouldn't lend money to a proper funeral when he came across an article dated a few years later and found out that Arthur had paid to have a grave marker placed at Jeremiah's grave. Dean breathed a sigh of relief and could only hope that, since a few years had passed, they put the marker in the right place.

"Come on Sammy, we've got everything we'll need. Let's go wait out front for Henry to pick us up."

* * *

Later that night, when the entire house was asleep, Dean crept out into the hallway. His footsteps, though soft and quite like those of a skilled hunter, echoed loudly through the great halls of the mansion as he moved. He'd thought he'd waited long enough that even Henry would be asleep, but that notion was smashed when he entered the kitchen to steal a box of salt.

"What are you still doing up Dean?" Henry inquired from his seat at the small corner table.

Dean froze in mid step. "I uhh . . . I was just looking for a late night snack . . ."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah . . . I'm a growing boy, what can I say . . ." Dean shrugs and turns to face Henry, and gets a sinking feeling in his stomach when he sees that Henry had the box of salt sitting on the table in front of him. "That's uhh . . . that's a lot of salt Henry . . ."

"Yep. But its top quality and I've been saving it for a special occasion."

"A special occasion where you need salt?"

"Well, why did you come down here for it Dean?"

"Because I-" Pauses . . . crap, did that mean Henry knew something? "I didn't say I came down for it . . . I said I was hungry."

Henry smiles. The kid was good, but not quite good enough yet. "And how were you planning on getting to the cemetery?"

Dean's mouth falls open and he stutters slightly from shock "I . . . uhh . . . well . . . I uhh . . ."

"I'll drive you."

"What! Why the hell would I go with you to a cemetery?"

"Don't you need to burn the bones Dean?"

Dean doesn't even respond . . . he just carefully starts backing out of the kitchen; his only thought was to get to Sam and get the hell outta there as soon as possible.

"Hey, relax Dean. My real name is Jason. I'm an old friend of your father. It's ok. I'm like you . . . a hunter."

"Why should I believe you?"

Henry/Jason shrugs. "There's nothing I can do to convince you of that. You get your stubbornness from John. You just have to trust your gut instinct, your hunter's instinct. Am I trustworthy Dean?"

Dean didn't even have to think about it. Nothing from the past few weeks and nothing about the man standing before him set of any warning sirens with his senses.

"So if you know what's going on, why haven't you already dealt with it?"

"Because then you wouldn't have been able to. This . . . this was a test Dean. A field test of your training. John knows your favorite part of the hunt is the actual hunt . . . the fight, but he needed to know how you'd manage on your own; without him there to guide you."

"So, was there ever a Jeremiah Crawford? And the disappearing kids? Or did you two fake all the articles." Dean was pissed that his father hadn't trusted him enough. He'd felt that Dean had to be tested! What was that about!

"It was a case a long time ago, but it's already been dealt with. John decided that it would be a perfect case to test you on. There was no danger still lurking about, and no way for you to know it'd already been taken care of. I'm sorry we lied to you Dean, but it was the only way."

"So basically dad didn't trust me. He didn't think I could do things right."

"No Dean. He knew you could, but he had to make sure you could do everything right and still protect Sam. If anything ever happens to him, he wanted to be assured in the fact that you could take care of yourself and Sam. Now why don't you stop worrying about everything and go get some sleep. John will be here tomorrow afternoon to pick you boys up."

Dean's response came purely out of habit. "Yes Sir." And he turned and walked back up to his room.

* * *

The next morning Dean made sure Sam was fully packed and ready to go for when John got there. He knew he wanted to have a little chat with their father later, about how he didn't appreciate the lack of trust, but he pushed that out of his mind for now.

As they walked in to the kitchen to get their breakfast, there were two packages sitting at their places. Dean looked up at Jason. "What are these for?"

"Since you passed the test, I wanted to get you boys something. Don't open them till you're back at the motel."

"Yes Sir."

Dean had already explained everything to Sam, so now all that was left was to wait for John to pick them up.

* * *

John stopped at a diner after driving for a bit. "Time for dinner boys" And he got out of the car, strolling into the diner, Sam and Dean following him close.

Dean was looking over the menu, trying to find something edible. "How come there's no steak on this menu? I was craving a nice filet mignon."

John peers over the menu at Dean. "I do believe that case spoiled you a bit Dean; too much fancy food. Nope, we're back to eating at grease traps now son. Don't complain, at least we're eating."

"Are we ever going to be able to live like that dad; I mean normal? I know that place was fancy, and it was nice to stay there for awhile, but I don't care about the fancy expensive part. Are we ever going to just be a normal family again?"

John pauses for a moment before answering "I hope so son, I hope so."

* * *

Back at the motel after dinner, Dean pulled the package out of his duffel. He carefully slides his finger under the edge of the paper and breaks the tape and letting the paper fall to the bed. He opens up the long thin box and his eyes shine at what he sees. He brushes his fingers along the cold steel of the blade, loving how it feels under his fingers. He takes in the sturdy handle, perfect sharpness, and delicate glint of the blade. It was exactly like Johns favorite throwing knife, the one Dean admired every time he cleaned their arsenal. He had his own now. It was like a 'coming of age' gift. He'd been trained, he'd been tested, and he'd passed. This knife, this was his right of passage. 


End file.
